Sarah says the same; but, between yu and me it aint
true. Sarah is a good administratrix jest as long as affares go on tu suit her, but jest
the eyedentical minit things go against the grain, shes off on the other side
like a roket.

But I dont wunder at her idees bein sumwhat
fuddled on pollytics, for her father was the gratest turn-coat yu ever did see. He was
brot up a methodistthen turned dimmycrat, and was made hog-reeve the same yeer, and
evry one said that he intered inter pollytical life for the sake ov gittin that
office. Bimeby he hined the odd fellus (he was odd enuff the, in all konshunce!), and
putty soon arter that he gut married and dyed his whiskers, fur which latter offense he
was expelled frum the methodists, on the charge of pervurtin the Scripture, which
says, thou canst not make one hair white or black. Then he bort a small farm (he was a
blacksmith before), and settled daown near us, and has boted reggerlarly on the
dimmycratic ticket ever sense, but twiseonce in Harrisons time, and agin in
Taylors; and ef aour State elecshun had come befour Pennsilvany, so hed a
known old Abe was baound tu win, hed have voted for him.

Sense the war brokek aout hes jined the Quakers, and
every time he hears ov a draft bein spoken of he quakes like a piece
ocrab-apply jelly when yu fust turn it ker slap aout of the mold.

Naow theres one thing where Sarah is as like her
father as two peas. She is fond ov pollytics. She reeds the New York Herald
reggerlarly, sos tu be on all sides tu once; and dont hardly touch a
novel except the hisstorical novels in the Sunday paperss. She dont reed menny works
of fickshun, except ockashunally storys rit by the reliable correspondents of some of the
newspapers. She nevver plays whist, becawse her father was a methodist; but she cheets
awful in old maid and slap-jack, and sumtimes tells fokeses fortunes with the kards. But
they dont many of em cum true. Tho once she told Sam Jennings thet he
would be choked tu death sum dayeeting flap-jacks, as he had so menny in his maouth thet
it removed the senter of gravety, and made him top-heavy, which cawsed him tu fall daown
seller.

Waal, as I was goin tu remarc, the larst
conversashun I had with Sarah was abaout pollytics.

I was doin oaur ioningwe dont keep no
hired gurl, and I du the work mostlywhen in rushed Sarah Blue, as mad as a march
hair, and sot rite daown on my pile ov hankerchefs, thet Id put on the settle bench
after ioning of em till they was as slick as a whistle.

"Charity! What du you think?" says she,
as pail as a gost.

"Why, for the lands sake, whats the
matter?" says I.

"Matter enuff!" she ansered, looking the very
picture of skorn. "Old Abe Lincoln has made a nu proclamashun!"

"Waal naow," says I, "Im glad
ont!is it good?"

Yu see I didnt know exackly what it wasI
didnt know but it was sum nu kin of cake hed maid. Yu know we hev Washingtun
Cake, and Lecshun Cake, and why shuldnt we hev Lincun Cake? Haowever, I
didnt tell Sarah what I thort it was, and I was glad I didnt arterwards.

"Good! Ther aint no good tu it," she
replyed; "dont yu think hes gorne and told all the niggers tu cut sticks
and run from there marsters as farst as thay kan; and he is trying tu aggeravate aour
Suthern brethren [thets what she kalls the rebels], and Im afrade they
wunt like it!"

Dont yu think, Mister Edditer, that kritter gut so
mad, she up and took one of my own flat ions and kum at me like a wild-cat!

I emmejitly seesed hold of the tongs, and we fit thare in
the kitchen till her face looked as if shed hed the small-pox, and mine was puffed
up as tis when I hev the tooth-ake, and all my kleen close that Id oined hed
tu be put inter the was agin.

I hevnt bin aout ov the haouse sence.

But I had my reevenge, fur I rit a poima sarkastical
poim, ov coarseabaout the abolishun ov nigger slavery, and sent it tu Sarah Blue,
and sined it Trooth, so shed know who rit it. She hasnt spunk anuff tu anser
it, tho. Her it si, deer reeder: